Chapter Two: Remembering

August 29, 1969
NY State University, New York
7:30 pm

With a light sweater around myself, I slowly walk against the cold wind. I have come to America to study. When my father and mother learned that I wanted to become a writer, they immediately enrolled me into a good and proper American University. The fact that my whole family are all KGB agents did blemish my record slightly. So, they gave me an alias. Emily Louise Parker. 'A perfect American name for a perfectly American young woman' my parents told me. Or something like that. It was too long ago and I don't want to think about it.

I never intended to marry someone from the USA, but then, I never intended to marry anyone. Ever. You see, there was a certain prophecy that has been passed down through the centuries, started by a man named Milo Rambaldi. It had to do with two people referred to as The Passenger and The Chosen One. My parents and grandparents have worked tirelessly to ensure that the prophecy handed down by my great-great-great-great (well, you get the idea)grandfather never happens. We knew that the two he told about, would come from our family line. My parents researched for years without end, before all their information pointed to me as the carrier. So, they did the only thing they could do to prevent it.

When I was 15 years old, I went in for surgery and I had my ovaries removed. Not my choice, mind you, but rather my parents. They rationalized it that, without them, I will never bear children, thereby The Passenger and The Chosen One will never be born. The night they told me that I had to go through this procedure, I cried myself to sleep. All I had ever wanted growing up was children. Room upon room of babies. Irina and Katya both hated kids. I remember one time when I was 13, Katya actually growled at a little girl-about 3 years old-who smiled at her. If it hadn't scared the toddler so much, I would have laughed. But of course, she started to cry and I was the one who ended up comforting her. Her name was Anja, and her older brother had left her at the park while he went to the store to buy cigarrettes. That was one of the times that I lost my patience.

I look around quickly before crossing the street, heading towards the small apartment that I'm renting. That's when it happens. I run into something. Fearing that I walked into a child or someone, I quickly look up. I could say that as soon as he looked into my eyes, I knew I was in love. That I kissed him passionately, and we then went back to my house and had sex. But that's not the case. I learned later, that the second he saw me, he was infatuated. Not me.

Without a word, I brush past him, and keep walking towards my apartment building.

"Excuse me. Excuse me!" He calls after me.

Damn it. It's not that I'm trying to be rude, I just would rather not be noticed by anyone, especially men.

The man quickly falls in step with me. "My name is Arvin. Arvin Sloane."

I glance over at him. "Emily Parker."

Arvin smiled at me, and I hesitated slightly, but I quickly looked ahead of me. "Where do you live?"

"What?"

"Oh, god, sorry. That probably sounded really bad, didn't it."

"Mhmm.."

"Umm..What I meant is, can I walk you home? New Yorkers are pretty dangerous this time of year." When I looked at him with an eyebrow raised, he chuckles. "I'm not from New York" he told me, as if it explained everything.

"I see." I had never spent any time with a male, except for Irina and Katya's occassional boyfriends, but I ignored them. So this unexpected interaction with someone of the opposite sex, it floored me. I have no clue how to be with him, and I'm sure it showed. "I live about three blocks from here."

There was his smile again. "So where are you from, Emily?"

"All over the place."

"Family moved a lot?"

"No. I did, actually."

"Oh."

"I was in a foster home from when I was 2, and I moved about once a year."

"How old are you? I hope you don't mind me asking."

"18. You?" Without rhyme or reason, I can feel myself slowly relaxing in his company.

"I'll be 19 soon."

Before I realized it, we were standing in front of my apartment door. "Do you..I mean..Maybe..Would you..?"

Arvin nods ever so slightly. "I'd love to."

I smile in relief-I'd never asked a guy if he wanted to come into my apartment before-and let us both in. "It's not that great to look at." My apartment is small, containing a kitchen/dining room, living room, bathroom, and bedroom. There is a small veranda off of it, but that's about all. It isn't spacious, and it definately isn't anything impressive. I did decorate it a bit, but not too much.

"It has a very homey look to it."

I look at him, trying to figure out if he's lying, but I don't see anything. If he is, he's an amazing liar. "Thanks," I reply softly as I put some water on to boil.

We spend the next couple of hours just talking. It's amazing how comfortable I feel around this man, and how at home I have become. He leaves just shortly before midnight and I watch him walk down the sidewalk. Arvin Sloane has become my one and only American friend. Tomorrow night, he's taking me out to a movie, where we'll meet his best friend, Jack Bristow.

Tonight, I sleep peacefully, with the full knowledge that I am not as alone anymore.

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August 4, 1972
Los Angeles, California
5:19 am

I wake up with a jolt, realization suddenly dawning on me. I know exactly what is about to happen. I know everything that's going to happen. I glance down at my husband, and the confusion is overwhelming. The dream I had three days ago, was it really just a dream! I'm not so sure, anymore, for I remember everything that will happen between now and the day that I die.

Crawling silently out of bed, my bare feet make no sound as I walk into the bathroom. I have to talk to Irina about this.